Master of The Beasts
by Naitachal666
Summary: Placed after Sephiroth is defeated in AC, except the silver bulletheads escaped instead of dying. Life unstable for them now, homeless and without creature comforts. Yazoo POV. Pairings develop later on.


Hello all again! This is my first published FFVII story (Although I've got about 20 Naruto stories,a few Bleach ones, an InuYasha one, and a Saiyuki one). I have a few unfinished chapters running around somewhere on my PC for some other FFVII stories, but this is the first one I've actually 'completed'. I'll make A NOTE HERE: I am a fan of Yaoi. This storymay or may not turn out yaoi, but don't worry about clonecest.Not this time. Almost all of my other stories are Yaoi. Just a warning if you decide to check out my page. Although there IS a nice ShikaxTemari fic that I've only got a few chapters finished for...pointless rambling...

DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own Final Fantasy VII or it's characters, although I do own a copy of the Advent Children movie...(Copyrighted to sq.enix!)

Master of The Beasts

Chapter One

Yazoo brushed a slender hand through his steely locks and sighed gustily, although not without finesse. A sudden gust of wind blew the leather of the young man's trench coat in a fitful move before settling again. The scent of rain was heavy on the breeze and such fitful winds were common this evening. Glancing towards the rapidly darkening horizon, Yazoo wet his lips with a movement of his tongue and turned back to the steep slope he had been observing. It would be the quickest way to where Kadaj and Loz had set up camp for the night, but also rather dangerous. Several rocky outcrops protruded from amidst the dry brush and rubble that littered the incline, making the slope a hazardous route. However, going around the rest of the even steeper cliff face would take almost an hour compared to the five minutes the unbeaten path in front of him would take.

Glancing back at the skyline and taking note of the deepening bruised purple color, Yazoo strode to his bike and threw a long leg up and over the curved seat. Quickly settling himself, he started the engine with a roar and turned back the way he had come, only to whip around once he had gotten a good number of paces way from the edge. Engine growling thunderously, Yazoo began his descent, dodging boulders and trees at breakneck speed. When nothing could be avoided, the young biker took the path of least resistance; over ramp-like boulders and through patches of crackling brush. Either way, he reached the bottom in a shower of gravel and a writhing cloud of dust stretching behind him. He skidded to an almost halt for a moment to check his injuries. Not surprisingly, he had only attained a few scratches and a single deep gash on the back of his left hand.

Idling with his feet braced on the ground, Yazoo scraped tangled locks of silver out of his face with both hands and irritably picked out leaves and twigs from amongst the long strands. Once he had gotten the most annoying pieces out, he revved up and headed off to his left. In less than a minute, Yazoo's cooling bike was lined up with two other bikes that belonged to Loz and Kadaj, both just on the edge of a small clearing. Tow heads of silver hair glanced up momentarily before tilting back down to study the map spread out on the ground before them.

Ignoring his brothers as they did him, Yazoo strode to his packs that he had left there earlier and grabbed one. A few moments of rummaging inside it and the long-haired youth held a dainty silver comb in one long hand. Yazoo had gotten it years ago, a peace offering for the time Loz had accidentally created a tangled mess of his sibling's hair. Yazoo had accepted the comb with a raised brow and a sneer and had begun the tedious task of untangling his silken hair, much like he was doing now in the forest.

The slightest of smiles, more like a faint upwards twitch, graced Yazoo's mouth as he thought back to Loz's expression the first time he had used the comb after that. Loz had really expected his asinine brother to throw it away after its service had been completed that one time, for Yazoo's hair had an uncanny ability to remain distinctly neat throughout almost any hardship. On only rare occasions did his lissome silver strands ever become tangled, but when they did, his hair became a matted mess. And anyways, as much of an ass that Yazoo could be, he still appreciated his brother's apology.

As Yazoo thought, his delicate fingers worked with the comb to remove each and every tangle and lingering bit of foliage that could cause a snag, further emphasizing in his mind how handy the expensive little comb could be. Turning his thoughts to other more present things, Yazoo pressed his pretty mouth to the wound on his hand as he put the comb back in his bag. His rosy tongue lapped stinging saliva over the cut and came away with drying blood that he devoured sensuously as he cleaned the wound. Pulling away, he stared at it and assessed that the gash was sufficiently deep enough to require a stitch or two to aid in the healing process. He reached back into his bag and pulled out a needle and thread in order to do so. With his enhanced healing that was a side effect of being a remnant of Sephiroth, and the stitches he was preparing to put in, his hand would be fully healed and scarless in a matter of days. A healing materia was not to be wasted on such a trivial wound when their stocks of materia was as low as it currently was.

Without flinching, the slender young man passed the pointed sliver of metal through his flesh and pulled it, the trailing thread causing the skin to ripple as he formed the first suture. He did so again for a second and third before using his sharp teeth to part the thread. Three stitches would hold long enough for the wound to begin healing properly. He would probably be forced to remove the sutures late tomorrow or the next day due to the speed at which his body would repair itself, but it would have taken all week to seal and mend properly if he had left it as it was.

Tossing the bloody needle and its remaining thread heedlessly into his pack, Yazoo stood and joined his brothers, leaving the scratches on his face untended. When he settled to his heels beside Kadaj, the other glanced at him with a raised brow in question of the cuts on his face. The only thing Yazoo answered with was a slight smile before he directed his gaze to the map. He brushed a single long finger down the creased paper where the cliff was and took a marking pen from Loz to outline the area and put an 'x' over their campsite. Drawing a line from there to the path he had taken much earlier that day to go around the cliff, he spoke.

"This is the best way up." His finger tapped thoughtfully at the paper, his deep voice low and thoughtful. "There are other places, but none as good." As an afterthought, he put a finger on another spot, much closer to their campsite.

"And this is where I came down." The barest hint of amusement adorned Yazoo's voice as he reached up with his wounded hand to brush across the scratches on his cheek. Both Loz and Kadaj glanced towards the looming cliff face that could be seen over the tops of the forest trees and back at their middle brother. Then Loz grinned and Kadaj shook just shook his silver mane. After all, it was very un-Yazoo-like (but _very_ Kadaj-like), for Yazoo to do something of that type on his own. Usually, a stunt like that was pulled by Kadaj, and Loz and Yazoo just followed his tread marks.

Tilting his head to the side, Yazoo stood and paced back to his bike. He had barely laid a hand to the molded seat when the first fat drops of rain began to fall all around him. Distantly, he could hear Loz's childish grumbling and Kadaj starting his angry pacing. Soon, the slow drizzle would evolve into a heavy downpour that would wash away all other sound and leave them wet and miserable. Already, Yazoo's tight leathers were sticking damply to his skin because of the humid weather, an uncomfortable reminder of just how far down in the world they had come since their defeat.

As his ears followed the sounds his restless brothers made, Yazoo unzipped a storage compartment behind the seat of his bike and pulled out a wad of sheening cloth. He re-zipped the compartment and shook out the blanket of waterproof material, wrapping it tightly around his shoulders. He rested his back against the nearest tree, its meager foliage barely keeping the steadily growing downpour from drenching his hair. In places, the silver locks were already plastered to his scalp, drenched while standing in the glow cast by the remnants of the setting sun. Light faded to darkness, and darkness became littered with stars and moon viewed through a chemical haze whenever he could see them through the gathering storm clouds. Soon enough the clouds would blot out any trace of those distant glittering orbs, and the force that was a true tempest would begin.

As Yazoo attempted to keep himself as far out of the heavy drizzle as he could, the first half-expected crack of thunder shook the land and sent a momentary jolt of startlement through the slender warrior's body. The next instant his world was awash with white as the thunder's counterpart flooded the forest with light. Trying to blink away the afterimages left burning in his vision, Yazoo crouched low to the ground and huddled under his scant bit of protection.

All three of the silver-haired remnants carried a grave distaste for storms and rain, and each had his own way of dealing with that dislike. Yazoo covered up as best he could and waited for the storm to pass, while Loz took to grumbling and pouting in a display of childish behavior. The worst of the three was Kadaj, the youngest of the three. Even from where he sat, Yazoo could feel the anger that drifted in dark waves from Kadaj's all too tense frame. Kadaj harbored an extreme hatred of which he had never kept a secret, in believing the rain a mockery of their failure; of _his_ failure.

As the long minutes dragged by, first Los and then Kadaj came to Yazoo to sit with him. They ended up, one to either side of him, the blanket spread over all three of them. Staring up into the coming storm, Yazoo lowered his head to Kadaj's shoulder and let out a tired breath. Morning was going to be a long time in coming.


End file.
